Too Late
The stage
has all but cleared.
All the souls
have gone home
for that long farewell.
No more matinees to be had;
no encore will echo
through these halls.
(silence)
The curtains,
now drawn with grace,
hang heavy
with dust and hush.
Not a single chair remains,
unforsaken.
(waiting)
Slowly decaying
listening to the
quiet hush
of the theater.
(stillness)
Too late.
The script is completed,
the final bow taken.
Only Silent echoes remain.
A meditation on endings. Whether it's a relationship, a life, or a moment, some final bows are taken in silence—with nothing left but dust, echoes, and stillness.